


An Anchor

by sinemoras09



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Reader request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waver can't believe his luck. Waver/Lancer. Reader request. PWP. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Anchor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riana1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riana1/gifts).



> **Warning** : there is an opening scene where Waver has to perform mana transfer on a barely conscious Lancer. Consent is given but it may trigger some. 
> 
> For [Riana1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/riana1), who asked for an alternate happy ending to the fic, [The Finest One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4824959/chapters/11049539), where Waver summons Lancer, "Because Dia needs to be ravished and loved and worshipped and Waver really really needs to get laid." LOL. 
> 
> Takes place right after their fight with Gilgamesh, but instead of Lancer dying, he hangs on long enough for Saber to find him. Thanks for always leaving such awesome feedback, hun! I hope you like it! <3
> 
> (Note: While this isn't a sequel per se, it's more of an AU of an AU, if that makes any sense. But you probably won't understand this fic without reading the first.)

1.

The doors slam open. Saber comes running, skidding beside him.

He can hear Lancer's breathing, harsh and shallow, and sees the thin film of perspiration on his brow.

"He's dying," Waver says. He looks at Saber, stricken. "What am I going to do?"

Saber's brow furrows. She stares intently at Lancer.

"You will have to sleep with him," Saber says.

"Huh?!"

"If you want Lancer to survive, you must give him your mana directly. He is too damaged. There is no other way."

Waver looks at Lancer, stricken.

"Saber, I...I've never done this before!"

"Then allow me to guide you," Saber says, and she hefts Lancer's body closer to Waver's.

Saber starts undoing the holsters around Lancer's waist. Her small hands work expertly, undoing the clasps and pulling off the buckles. Waver stares at her, horrified.

"He's unconscious! I can't...I can't do that to him, Saber!"

Saber stops and looks up at him. "This is to save his life," Saber says.

"I know, but..." Waver wrings his hands. "I don't want to hurt him. I need to make sure."

Saber nods, moving aside as Waver kneels desperately beside him.

"Okay, Lancer," Waver says, and he shakes him. "Lancer! Open your eyes, I need you to wake up."

Lancer's eyelids flutter, uselessly. Waver shakes him, harder.

"Lancer!" Waver says. He shakes him again. "Lancer!

 _Diarmuid!_ "

Lancer's eyes open. They sluggishly move upwards, meeting his.

"Lancer," Waver says. "I...I have to transfer mana to you directly. And in order to do that, I have to have sex with you." Waver's face burns. "Do you understand?"

Lancer's eyes close; a slight nod of the head. Yes.

"Okay," Waver says, and he climbs gingerly beside him. "We're going to take off your pants now. Just let us know if we're hurting you."

Lancer nods, weakly. Waver glances back at Saber, who nods, grimly. Lancer slowly closes his eyes.

They both work on undressing him, Saber undoing the clasps to one leg while Waver pulls off the boot to the other. Lancer is covered in bruises and scratches, and while the gashes in his chest have mostly stopped bleeding, he can see they are still raw and oozing. Carefully he undoes the belt buckle, and frowns when he realizes his pants do not have a zipper.

He glances up at Saber, who nods at him to continue. Waver takes a breath and gives Lancer's pants one harsh tug down his hips, but something catches and he can't pull his pants down far enough.

"Saber," Waver says, and Saber's jaw tightens as she leans in and gives Lancer's pants one harsh _yank_ , making Lancer cry out, sharply. Another fresh wound starts oozing above his hip bone.

"Forgive me," Saber says, and Waver curses silently when he sees Lancer's pants bunching up over the leather holsters around his thighs.

More buckles; there is the sound of metal clinking as Waver manages to undo the holsters and toss them aside. He's able to yank down Lancer's pants easily now, and he tries not to look at the dense fleshy mass between Lancer's legs.

"Okay, Saber," Waver says. "What do I do, now?"

"I believe...I believe you need to penetrate him," Saber says.

"Oh my god."

"It is the only way," Saber says.

They push Lancer onto his stomach.

"Lancer I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" Waver says, and he grips Lancer by the hips, shocked a little at how his fingers sink into incorporeal flesh, the outline of Lancer's body fading. "Oh my god, Saber, he's fading, what do I do?"

"You need to be erect for this to work," Saber says, and she starts undoing Waver's belt buckle.

 

*****

 

Above them, the sky is burning.

Waver chokes. The heat of ash and soot stings his eyes as he staggers forward, Lancer's arm slung heavily around Waver's neck as he leans against him. Somehow, the mana transfer stabilizes him, but Lancer is still weak, barely able to keep upright.

"Hang on," Waver says. He hoists Lancer closer as they stumble forward.

 

*****

 

2.

Waver's room is dark when he finally manages to drag Lancer upstairs, the Mackenzies fast asleep thanks to a simple sleeping spell. He bumps into the corner of the desk and just barely manages to navigate around the computer chair, pulling Lancer inside and guiding him to the bed. "Okay," Waver says, and Lancer drops heavily. "Okay, almost there."

"My lord..."

"Try not to speak. You don't have enough mana."

Lancer nods, weakly. He's too weak to shift into spirit form, so the only way he can recover is if he sleeps. With difficulty, he helps Lancer lie down on the bed, and almost immediately Lancer passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. Waver hovers above him a moment, frowning, before pulling the blanket up to Lancer's shoulders. Then he gets up and sits heavily at the computer desk, watching anxiously as Lancer falls into a fitful sleep.

They are just outside the radius of the fire, but just barely: outside the window, Waver can see the thick columns of black smoke that rise out from the heart of the city, the orange light from the fire bouncing off low-lying clouds.

In the bed across from him, Lancer's breathing is still uneven and shallow. There is a thin film of perspiration on his forehead, and that loose lock of hair sticks to the dampness of his skin. Quietly Waver kneels beside him, reaching out to rest a hand to touch Lancer's forehead. His skin is cold. Waver frowns, then readjusts the covers.

A tear drips, then another, the small dots of water spreading on the fabric of the blanket. He didn't even realize he had started to cry.

Waver squeezes his eyes and chokes back a sob, hunching into himself, all the emotions of the day finally spilling over. His hair falls over his face in long, limp strands, and he bows his head forward, crying noiselessly.

"My lord...."

One weak hand gently rests on top of Waver's. "Please do not cry, my lord."

"W-what...?"

Waver raises his head. Lancer smiles up at him, meeting his eyes.

But the memory twists like a knife in Waver's mind: Lancer is only here because of what Waver did to him. He feels sick with the guilt of once again hurting him.

"You did not hurt me, my lord."

"Huh?" Waver looks at him, dumbstruck. Lancer smiles.

"I can hear you," Lancer says. He smiles quietly. "You were never good at managing our connection. And I promise you, my lord. I gave myself willingly," Lancer says. Waver's eyes fill with tears.

"Idiot," Waver says, and he starts crying again. He presses the heel of his hand to his eye, sniffing pathetically. "That was so...humiliating! And...I'm sorry, Lancer." He cries harder. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"It is all right, my lord."

"I was so scared of losing you!"

"I know."

He feels a hand press quietly into his shoulder, and Waver realizes Lancer is mustering up the strength to hug him. Normally he would be horrified and terribly embarrassed, but right now Waver is too exhausted to think about anything. Wordlessly, he climbs into the bed, pulling up the covers and curling against Lancer's chest. He presses up against the ruins of Lancer's body and burrows his face into Lancer's neck, comforted by how warm and solid and steady Lancer feels beneath him.

And Waver is exhausted. His eyelids are heavy, the stress from the confrontation with Gilgamesh and nearly losing Lancer starting to take its toll.

He falls into a heavy sleep, his body curled up against Lancer's.

 

*****

 

It's still dark in the room when Waver finally wakes, and there's a patch of uneven moonlight streaking against the shadowed floor. Waver's shoulders are tight and his face feels taut from crying, but he's still lying against Lancer and somehow that makes him feel sort of okay. Lancer is still sleeping; Waver can feel the slow, steady movement of Lancer's breathing. Quietly he shifts, moving to a more comfortable position, and lets his fingers splay over the spot where Gilgamesh's spear had punctured him.

Lancer moves, and in sleep he shifts and gathers Waver closer to him. He feels Lancer sigh into his neck, a soft, contented sort of sound, and for a moment that ugly memory recedes back into the shadows.

And then he feels it: a soft kiss, pressed at the front of his brow.

"Lancer?"

They're lying on their sides, facing each other. Lancer smiles. His eyes are soft and their faces are close, and all Lancer has to do is tilt his head up a fraction to kiss Waver gently on the mouth. The touch of Lancer's soft, dry lips makes Waver shiver, unexpectedly.

"Forgive me," he says softly, and Waver feels his thumb fanning his cheek. "Did that disturb you?"

"No," Waver says. Lancer smiles.

"Good," he says, and he tilts his head to kiss him again, cupping the side of Waver's face and dropping another soft kiss on Waver's mouth.

"I...I've never kissed anyone before," Waver says.

"You honor me," Lancer says, softly. He gently caresses Waver's cheek, kisses the sides of Waver's face and the corners of his eyes. "Truly."

"Ne, Lancer." It's getting hard to think, Lancer having rolled him onto his back and gently kissing the pulse-point of his neck. "Um. You're not doing this because...because you're my Servant, right? You, we...I mean. If it's for mana transfer, you should be restored right now. We...uh." He breathes. "We don't have to do this."

Lancer looks down at him, quietly. "Do you wish to stop?"

"I--" Waver doesn't know.

"Have you, um," Waver licks his lips. "Have you ever been with a guy before?"

Lancer considers. "A few," he says.

"And what about Grainne?"

A kiss and a smile against the side of his neck. "Are you jealous, my lord?"

"I--what? Huh? Are you kidding me?" Waver pushes upright. "Lancer! We can't just--I mean! I'm your _Master_." Waver's face burns. Lancer laughs softly, wrapping his arms around him.

"I do this of my own volition," Lancer says, and Waver looks up to see warm hazel eyes, a soft smile that beams back at him. "Nothing would make me happier."

"You really are an idiot, you know that?" Waver tells him, but Lancer kisses him, smiling and reaching up to palm the side of Waver's face.

There is too much for Waver to process; everything goes in a blur. There he is, lying on his back, staring up at Lancer with wide, wet eyes. There he is again, shirtless, now without clothes. There is a touch, a warm palm sliding flat against bare skin; there is a soft smile and a warm, moist mouth, gently fellating him. He thinks, as his eyes roll closed and his mouth drops open, he thinks, _this is how mana transfer is supposed to go._

 

*****

 

3.

"I'm kind of nervous," Waver says.

Lancer is lying on his back, shirtless, as Waver is awkwardly straddling him. At first, Waver had been distracted by the prospect of pulling off Lancer's shirt, pausing a moment to gawk at the hard muscles of his chest and the broad line of his shoulders. But then the realization dawned on him that, up until now, Waver was a virgin, he had not so much as touched a man, let alone kiss them, let alone...this. And Waver fumbled, acutely aware of his own scrawny chest and thin shoulders, his lank, loose hair falling in stringy pieces like an ugly girl's. "What, uh. What should I do?"

Lancer gives him an encouraging smile. "You do not have to do anything," Lancer says.

"But you're--" Waver glances quickly at Lancer's very noticeable erection, straining against the fabric of his pants. "Oh god," Waver says, reddening. "I can't do this!"

Lancer hugs him and kisses him, smiles into his hair. "Then don't," Lancer says.

"But that isn't fair to you! I mean, I already came, and..." And he penetrated Lancer earlier, isn't it considered good manners to let Lancer penetrate him? (But Waver was a virgin, at least until last night. He's never been penetrated and he doesn't have lube. And Lancer seems pretty big, it would probably hurt. Not that Waver has anything else to compare it to, but still...

Are all guys big like this? Waver wonders. Is Waver just really small?)

"We do not have to do anything you're not comfortable with," Lancer says, gently. Waver stares at him.

"You heard that, didn't you?"

"Indeed. And if I may be so bold," Lancer smiles. "I do not think that you are small at all."

Waver shoots upright. "Nobody asked your opinion, idiot!"

Lancer blinks, innocently. "Forgive me, my lord. I thought you would want to know."

"Oh my god," Waver says. He just wants to sink into a hole.

Lancer laughs warmly and kisses him, pulling Waver back down into his chest. It feels nice, lying up against him with Lancer's arms around him. Waver would feel perfectly content lying like this, except his eyes occasionally dart back to the telltale bulge tenting beneath the blankets. _I should probably do something_ , Waver thinks. Lancer is probably too shy to ask.

"Um," Waver says, and he keeps his eyes on what he thinks is a neutral spot, a small freckle on the side of Lancer's arm. "Maybe if you tell me what you like...?"

"What I like?" Lancer says. He thinks a moment. "I suppose I like being kissed," Lancer says.

"Okay! That's easy. Uh..." Waver frowns. He hesitates a moment, then plants a quick kiss on Lancer's lips. "Like that?"

Lancer laughs, warmly. "Yes," he says, and he smiles as he kisses Waver again.

Kissing Lancer is probably one of the best things Waver has ever experienced, ever. Lancer's lips are soft, and Waver's breath hitches a moment when their lips part and he feels Lancer's tongue brushing against his, slightly. _How does he do that?_ Waver thinks. Lancer is smiling as he's kissing him, cupping Waver's cheek. He could probably keep kissing Lancer all night, but he feels Lancer's hardness against his thigh and remembers his resolve to make Lancer feel good.

"What else do you like?" Waver says. He leans against Lancer's chest, looking up at him. Lancer considers.

"I like being kissed on the neck," Lancer says, quietly. Waver blushes.

"Okay..." Waver presses a soft kiss against Lancer's adam's apple. The skin is soft, which surprises him. "There?"

"Actually, the side of my neck is very sensitive." Lancer's voice is soft.

"Here?" Waver says, and he kisses him on his pulse-point, just along the strap muscle. Lancer sighs, quietly.

"Yes."

Kissing Lancer's neck is soothing, somehow. Quietly Waver rubs his mouth along the side of Lancer's neck, kissing a line down his neck to his collarbone. Lancer's skin is pale - his mind thinks, "ivory" or "porcelain," but really it's more like the color of a runny egg. _Pasty Irish_ , Waver thinks, and it's completely endearing. Waver can't help but wonder how easily Lancer gets sunburned.

Somehow, he has lowered himself over Lancer's chest, rubbing his mouth over lean muscle and warm, pale skin, and in a flash of inspiration lightly circles Lancer's nipple with his tongue. Waver is rewarded by a soft moan and a slow rise of Lancer's hips, which Waver takes as a cue to move lower, dragging his mouth over the sensitive skin of Lancer's abdomen. There is a sparse trail of dark hair just beneath Lancer's navel, which Waver follows with the pads of his fingertips. Lancer sighs, softly. He's so hard the tip of his penis is poking out from the waistband, which makes Waver blush. Sliding his hand beneath the waistband, Waver can feel the thatch of coarse dark hair surrounding Lancer's penis; he grips him firmly, rubbing his thumb over the beaded wetness that's welling up at the tip.

Lancer sighs, softly, and Waver is too focused on Lancer's responses to feel nervous. He tugs down Lancer's pants, his eyes widening at the sight of Lancer's penis, stiff and leaking, pointing toward his abdomen.

But when Waver touches it, wrapping his hand around Lancer's penis hesitantly, he's shocked when Lancer pushes his hips up, thrusting a little into his hand.

"You're pretty horny right now, huh?" Waver says. It's not dirty talk, Waver is genuinely surprised.

"I-" Lancer's face goes up in flames.

Waver strokes him absently. "I didn't think a guy like you could get like this," Waver says.

"Er. It has been known to happen. On occasion," Lancer says. His voice is breathier than normal.

And Waver stuffs Lancer into his mouth, because he's a moron and he doesn't know what he's doing, except that the sound Lancer makes - something between a startled gasp and a bitten-off moan - would be enough to make Waver jizz in his pants, if he hadn't already come.

"Am I doing this right?" Waver asks. He strokes Lancer with one wet hand. Lancer's face is red. He nods.

"Yes," Lancer says.

"Should I stroke faster, or--"

"I--" Lancer blushes. Swallows. "It feels good when you kiss me, there."

"Oh!" Waver takes him back into his mouth.

He's starting to get the hang of it, kind of. Waver if anything is a quick study, and pretty soon he's bobbing his head up and down and moving at a brisk enough pace. His cheeks hollow as he sucks, sealing his lips around the shaft and breathing through his nose. The taste is different. Bitter, with a muted taste of salt - a human taste - and he realizes Lancer's cock has grown heavy and thick with arousal. He swirls his tongue around the tip, licking the pre-cum that's slicking around the head. Lancer moans softly. Waver starts to drool a little down the side of his mouth.

Lancer makes a sound, something high-pitched and a little helpless, and even though Waver is fairly certain he looks pretty ridiculous, sucking and slobbering all over Lancer's penis like a freaking amateur, Lancer's head is turned to the side, a large red blush cracking helplessly across his face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slack and half-open, and that curling lock of hair falls over his forehead, damp with sweat. It looks like it feels good, and Waver feels a flush of pride. He's never seen Lancer look so helpless. He presses a hand against the hard plane of Lancer's stomach, can feel the muscles tightening and rippling with effort.

And Waver feels him, straining to push his hips up a little, body stiffening with the effort not to thrust suddenly into Waver's mouth.

Lancer moans, softly. Waver relaxes his throat, tries his best not to gag as he takes Lancer even deeper, rocking back and bumping his nose against the skin of Lancer's abdomen. He's rewarded by a soft moan above him.

Lancer's hips shift and move just a fraction, the muscles of his flank and thighs tightening. Probably because he can't help it, now, but Lancer starts rocking a little, his pelvis rocking upward. He probably wants to start thrusting, wants to hold Waver's head still and push hard into Waver's mouth, and Waver knows it's probably taking all of Lancer's self-control not to. Saliva drips down the side of Lancer's shaft, and Waver's lips make a wet, smacking sound, running his tongue along the ridge of Lancer's penis and gripping the shaft with his hand. "Please," Lancer says. His voice is taut. Breathy. "Master..."

Lancer gasps, and his penis pulses suddenly. Waver stills, feels the head of Lancer's penis twitching hard, each spurt of Lancer's ejaculation shooting against Waver's tongue.

Waver swallows. The taste is slick and a little bitter, a bit like swallowing mucus, but it's not unpleasant. A moment passes and Waver rises, pushing himself upright on unsteady arms, and is only half-surprised when Lancer tugs him back down and folds him up against his chest, kissing him and hugging him, tight. "Thank you, my lord," Lancer says, and he smiles against Waver's forehead, "for everything."

Waver sighs. "I just had your penis in my mouth, you can call me by my name, you know."

Lancer laughs, softly. "Thank you, Lord Waver."

"Not 'Lord Waver,' dummy, just Waver," Waver says.

"Waver," Lancer says, and Waver looks up to see warm hazel eyes and a soft shy smile, and it hurts him to think he almost lost him. But Waver can't dwell on that now, not with Lancer waiting patiently for Waver's approval.

"Better," Waver says, and Lancer smiles as Waver nestles closer.


End file.
